


Flight

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Fortune Favour Me [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eilin escapes Highever Castle with Duncan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight

_“Run!”_

Dirt and sand scattered in every direction as Eilin bolted, galvanized by the Grey Warden’s shout. Dannar was on her heels as she dived into the field of grass surrounding the castle.The wind flung the soldiers’ cries into the night air, mingling with the crackle of the flames blackening the walls of her family home.

Eilin barely heard anything, so focused was she on her own panicked breaths and the thrum of blood in her ears.

A dark blur flashed in her peripheral vision -- the Grey Warden Duncan, who shouted something at her. She caught the word ‘hills’ and nodded at him. The only hills within two miles were the borderlands of the West Hill bannorn, a few hours’ walk west. Or run, which seemed more likely at the moment.

Duncan surged ahead and grimly she followed the disjointed path he cut across the field.

Well, it wasn’t really a field--more like a short expanse of grass that framed the cliffs on which Highever Castle perched. Still, it always seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, even though Eilin knew it ended sharply at a small forest that separated Highever from West Hill. As a child she used to get lost in here, and she would run through the grass until her legs ached and her heart felt like it would burst. If she really pushed herself she would reach the forest in five or ten minutes.

In her youth she never dared go farther than that first line of trees -- and later in her adolescence she learned that lesson again, the hard way. So she would stop where the hill sloped sharply and stare into the trees. And inevitably her aging nursemaid would catch up to her and burn her ears with a lecture of how dangerous it was to run off like that.

 

If only Nan could see her now, but she lay where Eilin found her on the kitchen floor with -- no, she didn't want to think about that right now.

 

Sand and dirt gave way to rough stone and Eilin pushed herself harder. Violent gasps stole the breath from her lungs and her eyes streamed from the harsh wind. The pulsing in her ears grew louder and drowned out everything but her racing heartbeat, the gasping of the Grey Warden beside her and the vague sound of Dannar’s paws pounding at a steady pace.

The soldiers were catching up.

A line of trees appeared in Eilin’s vision and she almost sobbed in sheer relief. Then there was a shout of triumph, and that brief flash of hope dropped into the pit of her stomach. At the same time an arrow whistled past her ear, its feathers grazing her cheek. Suddenly Dannar whirled, paws skidding on the rough ground, and charged straight at a dark shape Eilin assumed was the attacking archer.

She began to slow down, but Duncan grabbed her arm and shook his head.

 “Don’t stop!”

 But it was too late. There was another shout and three more shapes appeared out of the darkness, though all Eilin could see was moonlight gleaming on steel and chainmail.

Duncan turned and drew his sword in one smooth motion. The soldier bearing down on him met his raised blade with a ring of steel on silverite. That left two soldiers for Eilin.

She dropped into a guard position, ignoring the burning of her muscles. There was a silence that echoed oddly in her ears. The soldiers stared at her. The light was poor, but she saw enough.

They were afraid of her. As they should be.

 

“Come on, you spineless bastards!” she taunted.

 

One soldier seemed to hesitate, then suddenly rushed forward with a battle cry, swinging his sword in a wide, frenzied strike. Eilin took most of the strike on her blade, and when he over-balanced she knocked his sword aside and ran him through.

She kicked the dying man aside and turned to the last soldier. He was quaking visibly, his eyes wide at the sight of blood dripping down her sword. He couldn’t have been much older than her, and he was no soldier--that was obvious. He struck out at her clumsily, and she deflected the blow with ease. His footwork was sloppy and his defense imperfect. He could have been Oren, if Oren had been but a few years older. That alone would have stayed her hand out of pity if nothing else--but boys armed with swords were still armed, and as dangerous as an experienced veteran if you allowed their youth to get the better of you.

Eilin was no veteran, but she had a few good years of sword training behind her, and she easily outmatched the boy. In two quick strikes she got past his defense, and with a hard strike with her pommel she had him.

 

“We don’t have time for this,” Duncan said as the boy writhed on the ground, sobbing and spitting blood and broken teeth. “There are more soldiers on the way.”

 

Eilin looked at him over her shoulder and saw Dannar was at his side, his muzzle red with blood. The hound cocked his head to one side and whined petulantly. She pinned the boy with her boot, even as he struggled to get up, squinting at her in the poor light.

 

“No-- _please_ \--“

 

Eilin drove her blade home and stared as the boy’s life fled in gurgles and rattling breaths, feeling sick and sad and empty.

 

“Let’s go,” said Duncan. She followed him into the trees, where the darkness swallowed them.


End file.
